Little Brother, I'll Never Let You Go
by lucacat4
Summary: Dean regularly checks in on Sam during his stint at Stanford. Just to make sure that Sam's ok, not that Dean's getting all mother-hen and worried about him. Each time Sam seems like he's ok, so Dean slips away before Sam can see him. But one day, Sam is nowhere to be found, and Dean is desperate to do his job and protect his brother...
1. Chapter 1

Dean visits Sam regularly during his stint at Stanford. Okay, maybe Sam doesn't _know_ that Dean's there, but it still counts, right? It counts for Dean, in any case-just seeing Sam is enough. Not really _enough_, Dean still leaves with a bitter taste in his mouth and a suspicious pricking behind his eyes at only seeing Sam, not actually meeting him, but it's all he can do, and Dean is willing to take what he can get.

But it's hard. He's glad to see Sam happy and living a normal life for once, but it doesn't fill the niggling ache that Sam's absence has created in him. Soothes it, yes. Fills it, no. Dean wants to be the big brother again, to tease his brother and fight with him and ride with him and take care of him, take care of Sam like he's always taken care of him.

That's mostly why he visits. Dean can't shake the feeling that it's his duty to protect Sam, to make sure he's doing ok, and even when Sam's away at college, his job still holds. So he drives or hitchhikes over to Stanford every few months, and makes sure his baby brother is hanging in there. And of course he is, Dean notes with a warm glow of pride. Dean managed to convince the Dean of Academics (with a heartthrob story about surprising Sam with a congratulations party at the end of the year, and sending cards to all the doting relatives) to show him Sam's academic records, which are naturally pristine. He might be a geeky wacko, but he's still Sam, still Dean's brother, and if some brotherly pride warm's Dean's heart, well, no one needs to know. He's not checking in because of any kind of soppy brotherly love, of course; he's just taking a quick break, and Stanford is a nice place to visit. No exterior motives at all. _Worried?_ What are you talking about? 'Course not. Just...checking in.

So he checks in. In October, Sam's sitting under a tree with two other guys and a girl, textbook in hand and laptop on his knees. Sam's head is bent, squinting at the book while he types, so he never notices a tall man in a brown jacket who lazily strolls along the walk on the other side of the commons.

In January, Sam's in the dining hall, sitting by himself in a corner and nibbling on some kind of healthy junk, probably a salad. His hair looks as if it's been newly cut-but it's still long enough for Dean to ruffle a hand through. Except Dean's already gone, a long figure who only paused outside the door for a moment before slipping away.

In April, Sam's doing some kind of community service with a bunch of other kids, pulling weeds in a small park near the college. His hair keeps falling into his eyes, so he throws his head back with a laugh, swinging his hair out of his eyes and laughing as one boy pelts a clump of weeds at his back. Dean bites back an urge to call out, and disappears into the pub across the road.

Dean visits again in May-he's only a few hours away, staying in a motel while John meets with a few other hunters. He's bored and lonely, out of beer, and dying to get behind the wheel of the Impala. Three hours later, he's pulling up at the curb. Sam's going to be in Professor Brunson's chemistry seminar for another 10 minutes, his class of the day. Dean knows because, naturally, he photocopied Sam's schedule on his first visit, all those months before. This time he's actually going to meet Sam, then they'll head out for a couple of hamburgers and a few bottles of beer. Maybe Sam'll even come back with Dean for a few nights, although Sam's exams are only a week away.

Students pour out the front doors of the building, and Dean strains his eyes to pick out Sam. Not that it's so hard to find Sam in a crowd, of course-he'd know that freakishly tall, mop-headed brother of his anywhere. Still, he hasn't come out yet, and Dean's impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel when a curly, blond girl steps out, one he recognizes-she's been with Sam each time he visited, probably a friend. Maybe something more? Dean smirks at the thought as he steps out of the car and flags her down.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm looking for one Sam Winchester-you wouldn't know where he is, by any chance?"

The girl is obviously startled by his approach, but she smiles at him anyway. "You're not Dean, are you?"

Dean is taken aback, but decides that honesty is the best policy-in this case, anyway. "Uh, yeah, that's me...how'd you know?"

She smiles, and extends a hand. "I'm Jessica, nice to meet you. Sam talks about you all the time, you know." Her face falls. "I'm sorry to tell you this, I guess you don't know-Sam's in the ER."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean steps backward, feeling a jump in his chest and his heart skips a beat and begins to race. He drags a hand through his hair and rubs his face, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"God, tell me what happened. Did something...I mean, did someone hurt him, did he hurt himself, is he ok?"

Jessica placed a gentle hand on his arm for a moment before pulling away. "He's fine, Dean..I mean, he's going to be ok. He was walking with me to class earlier today, and somehow he managed to trip and break his wrist. The doctors say he's going to recover completely, no surgery, but they were so busy that Sam had to wait for a few hours before they could take more xrays and put a cast on, so he made me come back here so I wouldn't miss class. I was just going to go get him, do you want-"

Dean let a breath out through pursed lips. "Thank god. Thank you for, um, for taking care of Sammy, that's great. I'll go pick him up right now and get him back here."

Jessica smiled again, and pulled out her phone. "That sounds good. Tell him that I'm thinking of him, and ask him to text me later, ok?"

Dean was already walking back to the car, but he turned around long enough to call over his shoulder, "Sure, yeah, will do!"

_Klutz_, Dean chuckles in relief as he starts the car up again. _Just like Sammy to make a fool of himself when there's a pretty girl near by. Shame, really._

The ER is pretty full when he gets there, but he has no trouble sweet-talking the young woman at the desk into showing him to his brother's room. The kid doesn't look bad at all, really, more annoyed than in pain, but Dean's heart still clenches at seeing him again. He pauses outside the room and looks through the window for a few seconds before quietly opening the door.

Sam glances up as the door opens, then does a double take as he recognizes his visitor. "Dean! Wait-what are you doing here?! Are you ok, is Dad ok?"

Dean can't keep a smile off his face, so he figures he might as well give Sam a manly (but this time, gentle) slap on the back to make up for the show of emotion, then shoves over and sits down. "Dad's fine, I'm fine, but I stopped by the college to pick you up, and Jessica told me you'd gotten yourself in a mess."

Sam ducked his end, cheeks flushing. "Yeah, pretty stupid, really. I can't believe I had to go and break my wrist right before exams! I can't write for a week until they switch my cast for something lighter, and I have exams in ten days."

"Hey, it's ok, Sam, we'll work something out. How about I stick around for a little while, and help you? You can dictate to me, I can write your notes and then quiz you. Whaddya say?"

Sam raised his head. "Dude, really? That'd be great, but I know you're not really into studying. Or anything intellectual, for that matter," he said playfully.

Dean punched him gently on the leg. "Hey! Just because you're Mr Geek Boy, doesn't mean you're the only one who knows anything about learning. I know a thing or two. Let's get you out of this place, and I'll show you."

Sam's smile lights up his face, and Dean can't help but smile in return.

Half an hour later, Dean grunts as a pile of textbooks slip from his hands to the coffee table in Sam's dorm. _American History, Biostatical Genetics, Engaged Philosophy, Crime and Culture in 21st Century America. _He pulls a face and cracks his knuckles.

"Do you seriously read this junk? C'mon, I better your teachers go on more dates than you do. I saw a bar in town, let's go study a couple of drinks, huh?"

Sam rolls his eyes like he's five years old again, and tosses a wadded piece of paper in Dean's direction. "College is actually pretty cool. I don't mind the work, and believe it or not, I don't require any of your 'help' picking up a date."

Dean chuckles at the memory. Sam had been eleven the first time he'd asked a girl to a dance, and totally spooked that she wouldn't like him. He'd dragged Dean in to help him get ready, and…

"I'm sorry, that was kinda cruel, I'll admit. But you looked so funny and helpless getting ready, and I needed something to do! 'Sides, girls love perfume."

Sam smiles at the memory, the years having removed the sting of an injured pride. "Well, what you somehow failed to tell me is that girls love perfume for themselves, but not so much on their male dates, Dean! You start on that again, and I'll tell Jessica how you had a crush on your eleventh grade English teacher."

"Dude, she was hot, ok? Damn pretty, that one."

"Oh my god, Dean, let's just get started with the homework, ok?"

By the time dinner rolls around, Dean is pretty sure his brain is about to collapse. His hands are tight from writing so many flashcards, his back is sore from leaning over the table, and he's dying for a beer.

"Alright, Sammy, I think that's all I can take. Let's go grab a couple of burgers and see if this town has any worthwhile pie, ok?"

No answer.

Dean turns around, heart beginning to hammer even as his rational brain tells him to calm down.

Sam's stretched out on the couch, the textbook he was reading flopped open over his chest, injured wrist propped up on a pillow while the other one dangles above the ratty carpet. His face is smooth, his breathing even, and Dean feels a warm fondness build in his heart. Kid's been working too hard, probably, the dork. Dean gets up, and quietly flips off the radio, then draws the blinds and allows darkness to settle over the room.

Sure, they have problems, but when it comes down to it, family is all that matters.

_Fin_


End file.
